MLMD -Chapter 398 Ambush at Xiaotao Mountain

“Creak…”

With the sound of a door opening, a well‑preserved middle‑aged woman walked in. She went up to the Duke Yansheng, her eyes reddened, and said, “My lord, the only one who can help us now is the Marquis Zhongyong. Why must you quarrel with him? Can’t you just lower your head a little to him? Our family numbers several hundred people, all stranded away from home. Just the daily expenses for food and necessities cost an enormous amount of silver. If this continues, in just a few days our whole family will be drinking the northwest wind.”

“What would a woman like you understand?” Duke Yansheng snapped impatiently, glaring at her. “That Yue Yang actually proposed that officials and gentry pay taxes and perform corvée duties the same as everyone else. He’s digging at the roots of the scholars! Favoring the literati has always been a national policy of the Great Ming—how could it be changed at will? On this point alone, I must oppose him to the bitter end!”

This middle‑aged woman was Duke Yansheng’s lawful wife. Ordinarily she was hardly mild‑tempered herself, and now she was truly desperate. She glared back at him and retorted, “I’m just a woman and don’t understand, right? You’re the descendant of a sage—you understand everything! Fine then, from today on I won’t manage the household anymore. You manage it yourself. As for today’s lunch, you figure it out!”

“You—!”

Always priding himself on being a descendant of Confucius, Duke Yansheng was struck dumb. Only now did he truly understand what it meant that a single copper coin could defeat a hero. No matter how capable you were, you still had to eat. Man is iron, rice is steel—miss one meal and you’d feel faint. With several hundred mouths depending on him, if he kept being stubborn, in a couple of days the whole family would be begging on the streets. If word spread that the direct descendant of Confucius had let people starve to death at home, the shame would be beyond measure—his ancestors would probably sit up in their coffins in rage and die all over again.

Duke Yansheng fell silent. His wife, used to a life of luxury, could no longer endure the stark contrast of recent days. Everything burst out at once as she pointed at him and scolded, “Isn’t the Marquis Zhongyong just collecting some taxes? If he wants to collect them, let him! Our family has so much land—what’s wrong with paying a bit of tax? We can still live our lives as usual. Isn’t that better than living at others’ mercy like this? If someone in our family starves to death, how will you explain it to our ancestors after you die?”

Scolded into speechlessness by his wife, Duke Yansheng wilted. The ancestors had said, “Do not yield to force, nor be corrupted by wealth,” but that was ancient history. These days people laughed at poverty, not hidden riches. During his time in Jinan, apart from Ke Zhen’nan and Ma Ke visiting once or twice in the first few days, all the other scholars had vanished without a trace. Why should he grit his teeth and hold on for them? Thinking this through, his once‑firm resolve began to waver. Weighing the pros and cons, even if he truly had to pay taxes every year, it wasn’t that he couldn’t afford it—at worst he’d earn a bit less. But if the bandits continued to occupy Qufu, then by the time they finally withdrew, his home would truly be reduced to ruins.

At that moment, Duke Yansheng suddenly felt he had been played for a fool. Those scholars and gentry had been using him as a shield, pushing him to charge at Yue Yang while they hid behind watching the show. When trouble came, they all disappeared. Had he really been that stupid?

People in adversity are prone to paranoia. Although Duke Yansheng had memorized his ancestors’ works backward and forward, personal cultivation could not be achieved by recitation alone. Raised in luxury, he had never endured hunger. The thought that he might never be able to return home threw him into panic. Damn it—if they wanted to collect taxes, then collect them. Better that than having a home he couldn’t return to and property seized by others.

Facts proved that not everyone could shout slogans on an empty stomach. Under the threat of hunger, Duke Yansheng finally compromised. He went to Yue Yang and, with much embarrassment, promised that if the Governor helped him recover his home, he would take the lead in supporting the New Policies and pledge to pay land taxes to the court every year.

Yue Yang, crafty to the core, wasted no time. The day after Duke Yansheng agreed, he immediately announced the news publicly and sent a carrier pigeon to the headquarters of The Great Ming Times in Jinling. Very quickly, the entire Great Ming knew that the Duke Yansheng of Qufu had changed sides and bowed his head to the New Policies. The news swept through the scholarly world like a tsunami, leaving everyone stunned.

In truth, Duke Yansheng had underestimated himself. As the universally acknowledged direct descendant of Confucius, his words and actions largely represented the scholars. If even the Sage supported the New Policies, what objections could the rest possibly raise?

Yue Yang was decisive and kept his word. The very next day after Duke Yansheng publicly declared his support, Yue Yang dispatched Chu Di with two thousand cavalry and three thousand musketeers toward Qufu. He made no attempt to hide it—the force advanced in a mighty procession…

Inside the inner courtyard of the Kong Mansion in Qufu, Li Zicheng was drinking merrily with his commanders, cups clinking in loud revelry, when a headman from the old camp stumbled in. He rushed to Li Zicheng, panting, and whispered urgently in his ear.

“Chuang King… Chuang King… bad news… the Xuanda Army is coming!”

“Hm… what army?” Already somewhat drunk, Li Zicheng didn’t catch it at first. Holding an exquisite porcelain bowl he’d found somewhere, he slurred, “Y‑you say that again… who’s coming?”

The headman panicked and shouted into his ear, “Chuang King—it’s the Xuanda Army!”

“What… the Xuanda Army?”

Now not only Li Zicheng but all the commanders nearby heard clearly.

“What? The Xuanda Army is here?”

The generals who had been laughing loudly a moment earlier fell silent as if struck dumb by a legendary martial master. Many still wore the arrogant expressions frozen on their faces.

After a long pause, Liu Zongmin, seated to Li Zicheng’s lower left, suddenly stood up and grabbed the headman by the collar. “What did you say—the Xuanda Army is here?”

“T‑Total Commander Liu… y‑yes,” the headman stammered. “According to a fast rider from our agents hidden in Jinan, the Marquis Zhongyong Yue Yang has sent a vice‑general named Chu Di, leading five thousand troops toward Qufu!”

Tian Jianshu added doubtfully, “How is that possible? Hasn’t the Marquis Zhongyong been ignoring us ever since we took Qufu? Why would he suddenly send troops to wipe us out?”

“There’s nothing strange about it,” Li Zicheng said grimly, word by word. “They are soldiers, we are bandits—natural enemies. Yue Yang is the Governor of Shandong. Our seizure of Qufu is already an encroachment on his territory. It’s only right that he deals with us. Did you think you could coexist peacefully with him?”

“Chuang King, what should we do now?” Tian Jianshu asked, gripping the steel saber at his waist, his hand trembling slightly. Such fear was rare for a desperado like him, but Yue Yang’s reputation was simply too great. At heart, the bandits were still just a mob fighting to survive. Faced with the fearsome Xuanda Army, they felt an instinctive dread.

Li Zicheng fell silent. After taking Qufu, his forces had expanded to seventy or eighty thousand. Though most were old, weak, or sick, they could still serve as cannon fodder.

After thinking for a moment, he asked the headman, “How many troops has the Xuanda Army brought?”

“In reply to the Chuang King—about five thousand.”

“What?!”

Cries of astonishment erupted at once, faces around them showing a mix of emotions.

“Only five thousand to attack us?” Li Zicheng’s expression held surprise, anger, and a trace of hidden delight. “Yue Yang is looking down on our righteous army!”

A surge of humiliation followed. He commanded tens of thousands, yet Yue Yang dared send only five thousand—wasn’t that blatant contempt?

Liu Zongmin was equally furious. “Chuang King, this is too much! Just five thousand—our tens of thousands could drown them in spit. Give me three thousand from the old camp and thirty thousand from the outer camps, and I guarantee I’ll wipe them out!”

Known as the fiercest general of the Chuang Army, Liu Zongmin always fought the hardest and was Li Zicheng’s most trusted subordinate. Proposing to use only that many troops against five thousand Xuanda soldiers was already rare restraint.

Li Zicheng nodded. “Very well. Let Jiexuan go test their strength first and see if the Xuanda Army truly lives up to its name.”

Liu Zongmin laughed. “Chuang King, rest easy. With over twenty thousand men, even if I don’t win, I’ll bite off a chunk of them. They say the Xuanda Army is the strongest force in the Great Ming, even driving the Manchus beyond the passes in defeat. But in my view, the Manchus’ ferocity is exaggerated. Against our righteous army, they might not fare any better. The Xuanda Army just got lucky with one victory—that’s all. I’ll swallow those five thousand and come back to drink!”

“Good! As expected of Commander Liu—truly heroic!”

Cheers rang out. No one challenged his deliberate belittling of the Xuanda Army. In truth, they knew better—the Xuanda Army’s reputation couldn’t be erased with words. As for claiming the Manchus weren’t formidable, that was sheer nonsense. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t have crushed the Ming for decades. But Li Zicheng’s bandits were used to drowning enemies in sheer numbers; the principle of quality over quantity was, to them, little more than a legend.

Liu Zongmin acted swiftly. Two hours later, he led over thirty thousand troops out of Qufu and set up an ambush near Xiaotao Mountain, several dozen li from the city, waiting for the Xuanda Army.

The next afternoon, Chu Di’s Xuanda Army arrived not far from Xiaotao Mountain.

Riding a black warhorse, Chu Di moved within the marching formation. Around him were neatly arrayed musketeers, and ahead, dense ranks of cavalry.

Seeing the imposing force, a surge of pride welled up in Chu Di. As Yue Yang’s power expanded, the status of his old followers rose with it. Before joining Yue Yang, Chu Di had been a frustrated deputy company commander; less than three years later, he now commanded thousands as a vice‑general. Such promotion was astonishingly fast.

“This time, we must annihilate these bandits,” Chu Di thought as he rode. “Otherwise, I’d fail the Marquis’s expectations.”

At that moment, a scout galloped in and reported loudly, “Reporting, General! Traces of bandit ambushes have been found ahead at Xiaotao Mountain.”

“So even bandits know how to set ambushes now?” Chu Di was briefly surprised, then asked, “Have you determined their numbers?”

The scout shook his head. “Their cavalry has sealed off the main pass at Xiaotao Mountain. I dared not alert them, so I couldn’t estimate their numbers. But one thing is certain—their force is substantial.”

Chu Di nodded in agreement. With the Xuanda Army’s strength, small bandit groups would flee, not dare to ambush. After a moment’s thought, he ordered, “Cavalry halt! Musketeers form ranks and deploy defensive formations. Artillery prepare to provide support!”

The Xuanda Army was well trained. At Chu Di’s command, the marching column instantly spread into defensive order. Three thousand infantry fanned out, quickly forming three square formations advancing slowly in a triangular pattern. Two thousand cavalry held the rear, with the artillery and baggage train at the back.

The bandits lying in ambush noticed the movement at once. Liu Zongmin’s battlefield experience was unquestionable. His plan had been to use the mountain pass to wipe out the two thousand cavalry at the front. Once that was done, he would use his two thousand elite horsemen to circle behind and then signal the thirty thousand hidden troops to attack together. He was confident that even with three heads and six arms, the Xuanda Army would perish. He had defeated countless Ming forces this way. But now it seemed the Xuanda Army was alert—they had sensed the ambush quickly.

One headman worried aloud, “Commander Liu, it seems the officials have spotted us. Should we charge out now? If they retreat, it’ll be troublesome.”

“That makes sense,” Liu Zongmin agreed. Afraid they might withdraw, he said to another headman, “Wang Dezi, take two thousand men and test them. Remember, don’t hit too hard—if you scare those dogs away, all this effort will be wasted.”

That remark showed Liu Zongmin’s arrogance—he feared striking too hard and scaring off the Xuanda Army. If Dorgon and the Qing generals were present, they might have raised a thumb in admiration of his ignorance.

When Chu Di’s three formations advanced to within five hundred paces of Xiaotao Mountain, a horn sounded. Over two thousand bandits surged out of the ravines. What shocked Chu Di and the prepared musketeers was that these attackers were all ragged refugees wielding hoes, clubs, or kitchen knives. They had no formation, no organization—just a chaotic mob charging forward.

The front‑line commanders were first stunned, then amused. Were these bandits here to fight or to die? Who fought like this?

Amused or not, strict discipline and training meant the Xuanda Army followed procedure.

“All units—halt! Prepare to load!”

“First rank, aim!”

With shouted commands, musketeers raised their guns, black muzzles pointing forward.

Among the charging refugees, dozens of bandit overseers waved weapons and shouted encouragement. “Brothers, rush! Knock down those officials and the Chuang King will give you steamed buns—white buns, as many as you want! Charge!”

The refugees’ eyes reddened at once. As the lowest‑rank cannon fodder, their fate was always the cruelest—subsisting on moldy, foul food, never enough, risking their lives even for that. Hearing that victory meant fragrant white‑flour buns, they went mad with hunger.

One might ask: after taking Qufu, didn’t Li Zicheng seize plenty of grain? Why were the common bandits still eating so poorly? This was a hallmark of bandit armies. They were a hastily assembled rabble with no faith, no hope, no future. If you fed the cannon fodder well in peacetime, how could you expect them to risk their lives in battle? Thus Li Zicheng and his leaders kept them half‑starved—never full, never dead—so that in battle, the promise of a full meal could drive them to fight.